


Modest Celebrations and Thoughtful Gifts

by BuckinghamAlice



Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (2015)
Genre: Anniversary, Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Marriage Proposal, Romance, Weddings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-26
Updated: 2016-06-26
Packaged: 2018-07-18 06:30:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,218
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7303246
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BuckinghamAlice/pseuds/BuckinghamAlice
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Illya has a very special surprise for Napoleon on their anniversary.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Modest Celebrations and Thoughtful Gifts

**Author's Note:**

> For my very wonderful friend. Happy birthday!

Illya looked at himself in the mirror one more time and fussed with the collar on his suit jacket. This was his third anniversary with Napoleon, and he was looking forward to it being a very special night, so he wanted to start off right – with everything perfect.

As he was smoothing his hair down once more, he had to smile to himself at the feeling of Napoleon coming up behind him and slipping his arms around his waist. Napoleon wasn't tall enough that he could see him in the mirror, but he could imagine the cheeky smile on his face.

“Couldn't possibly get any more handsome than that,” Napoleon said, hugging him close.

Illya blushed. “Thank you, Cowboy...”

Napoleon snickered. “No, I meant you're funny looking and that's as good as it'll get.”

Illya turned around quickly, slipping out of Napoleon's grip to see him grinning mischievously. He was like a little fox… so tricky and quick and naughty. “Very rude. Americans always so rude.”

Napoleon shrugged and slipped his arms around Illya's neck. He pressed his body close and gave Illya a soft kiss, and Illya knew he had already forgiven him. It was just that simple.

“I had to say something, Peril,” Napoleon reasoned. “I was so dazed by how good you looked that I needed to be a smart ass before I accidentally complimented you too sincerely.”

Illya shook his head and sighed. “Lucky I love you.”

“Oh, I know,” Napoleon replied. “Now, why are you so dressed up? We're just having a dinner at home.”

Illya couldn't help furrowing his brows. He probably looked as wounded as he suddenly felt. Napoleon had never forgotten an anniversary before. Could it be that their relationship was no longer something he liked to celebrate?

“I… I,” Illya stammered. “Is just nice to put on good suit sometimes.”

Napoleon laughed. “Well, you and your good suit go sit down. I'm about to serve dinner.”

Illya nodded silently and walked to the table feeling rather somber. He sat down and watched Napoleon wander into the kitchen, wearing his favorite apron over the top of a leisure shirt and white linen pants. It wasn't a special night for him… and Illya was second guessing himself and his plans, and feeling rather foolish.

Napoleon soon carried a casserole dish out of the kitchen. “Can you get the plates for me?” he asked casually. “I still have to get one more thing.”

Illya wandered into the kitchen and found that all of their regular plates had been removed from the kitchen cabinet. They weren't in the sink or the dish rack… but the fine china was sitting out, as were two crystal champagne flutes. Illya grabbed the plates and some silverware, and he took them to the dining table.

Napoleon was standing beside the table lighting two candles in the fancy silver candlesticks Illya had given him for a present on their last anniversary. He smiled sweetly when Illya caught his eye, and he motioned for Illya to take his seat.

“I made chicken a la King,” Napoleon announced. He set the plates in front of their places, and served up the creamy dish. “For my king.”

“Smells delicious,” Illya replied softly.

Napoleon smiled. “You loved it so much last time. And I'm chilling champagne, too.”

“Champagne?” Illya asked casually. “What for? Is just normal night.”

Napoleon shook his head. “Oh, Peril. You're a terrible spy… and too easy. I was pulling your leg. Happy anniversary!”

Illya grinned and felt immediately relieved. “I thought you had forgotten.”

“I know, that was the idea,” Napoleon replied, grinning. “Now, go ahead. Eat your meal, and then we can exchange presents. I mean… I assume you've gotten me something.”

Illya gulped and felt heat rush to his cheeks. He put his hand protectively over his breast pocket, where the most important gift he had ever picked for Napoleon was hiding. “Da,” he said simply. He picked up his fork and began to eat fast, trying not to show his nerves.

“No one's going to take it,” Napoleon said. “You can slow down.”

Illya kept eating. “Am just hungry.”

Napoleon shrugged but said no more. He went along with eating his meal, and soon they had both finished. He got up and went to the kitchen, and moments later he returned with a champagne bucket and a small gift box. He popped the cork on the champagne and poured a glass for each of them.

“I propose a toast,” Napoleon began. “To my Peril, and to us. May we have another three years or more. Maybe forever.”

Illya clinked his glass on Napoleon's and felt the blush return to his cheeks. Now was a good moment. Now was his opening. “Funny you mention forever.” He reached into his pocket and puled out the small jewelry box there. He opened it to reveal a simple silver band. This was the moment he'd been waiting for. “Would you marry me?”

“ _Marry_ you?” Napoleon asked. His face looked genuinely shocked, and it made Illya feel nervous. “How could we even…?”

Illya shrugged. “Is just a symbol. Marriage is more than piece of paper… is a promise, a commitment. We can do this without the paper. If you want...”

Napoleon's face softened. He reached his hand towards the ring and took it. He didn't put it on his finger, though. He held it tight in his hand and his eyes began to water.

“Oh, Cowboy...” Illya began sadly. He got on his knees in front of Napoleon and put his head down apologetically. “I am sorry… I did not think. I thought it would be romantic...”

“It is,” Napoleon insisted. “It's just...”

Illya looked up at him. “Is bittersweet without the paper?”

“Well, yes,” Napoleon replied. “But… the commitment is more important than the legal standing. I don't care about that. It's just that this is the nicest, most romantic thing that's ever happened to me… and all I got you is a stupid pair of cufflinks.” He slid the box over to Illya. “I paid for them too, with money. I could have easily taken them.”

Illya smiled and kissed his cheek. “Is progress. I love them.”

“You haven't even opened them,” Napoleon protested. He was still holding the ring tight.

Illya sighed softly. “I love them because they are Cowboy cufflinks. I love all my Cowboy gifts.” He opened the box and hastily pulled out the cufflinks, which were in the popular coin style and made with two silver kopek coins, and put them on. “I really do love them. Is Russian and everything.”

Napoleon smiled softly. “Nothing like a marriage proposal though.” He handed the ring to Illya and went on, “Yes, I will marry you. Now, slip that on my finger.”

Illya smiled broadly and gently held Napoleon's hand and slipped the ring in place on his ring finger. He then pulled Napoleon's hand to his mouth and gently kissed it. He had never felt so happy… or so relieved.

“I love you,” Napoleon breathed.

Illya kissed him. “And I love you. Forever.”

“But how will it work?” Napoleon asked. “We can't have a ceremony…”

“Well...,” Illya began. “I did have a plan in place for that...”

&&&

It was less than an hour after Illya had proposed, and Napoleon still felt like he was in a daze. He'd put on his best suit, and couldn't stop staring at the ring on his finger. It was simple and it wasn't something he'd pick to wear for himself, but now he couldn't imagine taking it off.

Gaby had just arrived at their apartment and she was in a wonderful mood. She had been in on this with Illya, Napoleon had learned, and she had been waiting by her phone for his call.

“Shall I call myself a priestess?” Gaby asked. “I haven't decided. Minister doesn't have quite the right ring to it.”

Napoleon smiled. “Call yourself whatever suits you. So long as it means we still get married.”

Illya looked happier than Napoleon had ever seen him. “Thank you for doing this,” he said softly.

Gaby smiled and hugged him, standing on her tiptoes and still not reaching anywhere near Illya's height. “I'm honored.” She must have really meant it too, because when she had finished hugging Illya she even hugged Napoleon.

“I brought the two of you something,” she announced. She handed them a box, and as Napoleon wasn't practiced in self-control, he opened it immediately. Inside the box was an empty picture frame. It was made of mahogany and had subtle gold designs. Embossed on the bottom in small gold print were Illya and Napoleon's initials.

“I brought my camera too, to take your official photo,” Gaby said, smiling warmly.

Illya hugged her again. “Thank you. For all of this.”

Gaby cleared her throat, probably hoping not to betray any emotion. “Well, let's get on with it. I have the other ring.”

“Give her yours, Cowboy,” Illya directed. “She can hold them for us until it is time.”

Napoleon frowned, and hesitated. He hadn't planned on this part. They were both looking at him expectantly, however, so he reluctantly slid the ring off of his finger and handed it to Gaby. “Be careful with it though.”

He expected her to snap at him, but she seemed to understand. She simply said, “Of course, Solo.”

Illya took his hand, and led him to the spot in the front room, before the fireplace. This was probably the most picturesque spot in their apartment, so Napoleon thought Illya had picked it well.

Gaby made sure they were standing in the appropriate places, and they joined hands. She stood in front of them and held open a notebook where she had written down what she wanted to say.

“My two dearest friends,” she began. “We're here tonight to join you two in a bond as lasting as a legal marriage. Where marriage may unite you legally, it's love that _really_ holds you together. That's what binds your hearts and souls.”

Napoleon felt himself tearing up again and hastily shrugged up his shoulder to wipe his eye.

“Is okay, Cowboy,” Illya whispered. “I may cry too.”

Napoleon exhaled and laughed softly. “Okay.”

Gaby smiled, and went on. “I think this is the part where traditionally I should ask if anyone wants to stop the wedding, and then maybe read The Bible. But… I think we can skip those things now.” She looked to Illya then. “Repeat after me. 'I Illya take thee Napoleon to be my beloved husband, despite his many flaws, from this day forward, as long as I shall live.'”

Illya smiled warmly. “I Illya take thee Napoleon to be my beloved husband, despite his many _endearing_ flaws, from this day forward, as long as I shall live.”

“Now you,” Gaby said, indicating Napoleon. “'I Napoleon take thee Illya to be my beloved husband, despite his temper and unnecessary height, from this day forward, as long as I shall live.'”

Napoleon felt himself grinning. He was still emotional, but he didn't feel like crying now. “I Napoleon take thee Illya to be my beloved husband, perhaps _because of_ his temper and unnecessary height, from this day forward, as long as I shall live.”

Gaby smiled. “You both need to work on repetition, but that's a conversation for later.” She pulled the two rings from her pockets and handed Illya's ring to Napoleon and Napoleon's ring to Illya. “Illya, put this ring on his finger, and say 'with this ring, I thee wed.'”

Illya gently took Napoleon's hand and slid the ring back where it belonged, on his finger. Napoleon couldn't hide the smile at hearing Illya say, “With this ring, I thee wed.”

Gaby then gave Napoleon the same instructions, so he gently caressed Illya's hand as he held it, and slid the matching band in place on Illya's finger. The fit was perfect. He realized his voice was thick as he repeated, “With this ring, I thee wed.”

“With the power I invested in myself, I now pronounce you married!” Gaby exclaimed. “Illya, you may kiss your cowboy.”

Illya grinned and grabbed Napoleon. He pulled him close and into a deep kiss. And though every part of this was for them, not legally binding or in any way official… it felt real. It felt permanent. Their bond, which was already so strong, now felt unbreakable.

They continued to kiss for several minutes, and Gaby got her Brownie camera out of her purse and snapped a few pictures.

“Now, pose like civilized people,” she instructed. “You need an official photo, looking mature. This one is for the picture frame.”

Laughingly, the two of them held hands and stopped their kissing just long enough to take the photo that Gaby requested. And Napoleon had to try and resist looking down at his hand, and the little silver band that had changed his life.

Their anniversary, a celebration of how they had begun a few years ago, had also heralded a new beginning for them and their relationship.

And to think, he had expected his chicken a la King to be the highlight of the evening! But this was one time when Napoleon didn't mind being upstaged. Not at all.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [A Shared Gift](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11317563) by [BuckinghamAlice](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BuckinghamAlice/pseuds/BuckinghamAlice)




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